


Euphemism

by splash_the_cat



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Angst, F/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-04-13
Updated: 2003-04-13
Packaged: 2017-10-11 20:08:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/116579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/splash_the_cat/pseuds/splash_the_cat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Saying what you can't the only way you can... </p>
<p>Hammond:  "We may have to make some difficult choices.  I know that Major Carter means a great deal to you."<br/>O'Neill:  "She's a very valuable member of my team, sir."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Euphemism

**Author's Note:**

> S6. Spoilers: Metamorphosis. Thanks to Cal and Michelle

"Colonel."

Jack looked up from his bowl, in which he'd been swirling the remaining Froot Loops until the milk was a sickly peach color. "General."

Hammond nodded to the seat across from Jack. "Mind if I join you?"

He did, but... "'Course not, sir." When Hammond sat, cradling a cup of coffee, Jack asked, "To what do I owe the pleasure, General?"

"You've been rather quiet the last few days, Colonel."

Jack shrugged, scrubbing a hand through his hair. "It's been that kind of week, sir."

"That it has." Hammond took a drink of coffee. "Speaking of, how are Jonas and Major Carter?"

"Jonas is fine. A little squicked by the whole Nirrti trying to seduce him to the Dark Side bit, but they can't find anything wrong with him physically."

"And Major Carter?"

Ah, Major Carter. Jack stabbed at a piece of cereal with his spoon, drowning it again and again in the sugar-saturated milk. "Fraiser said she'll be okay. No permanent damage." Not, Jack mused, counting a few dozen more gray hairs on his own head. He wasn't thinking about it, though. Not really. Not more than every ten minutes or so.

Hammond nodded, and took another sip of his coffee. "This was a close one, wasn't it?"

"There's been closer." Like that time she actually did die. Does close still count as much when you've already crossed that line? "Horseshoes and hand grenades."

"What was that, Colonel?"

The piece of cereal Jack had been torturing disintegrated under his continued assault. "Uh, nothing, General." Jack let the spoon fall into the bowl and pushed it away. "So, yeah, Fraiser said Jonas is fine, and Carter'll be back on duty in about a week."

"I was thinking that I might give you all some more down-time. It's been a tough year."

"So was last year, General. And the year before." Jack reached over and picked up the spoon again, tapping it against the edge of the bowl. "Come to think of it, the one before that kinda sucked, too."

Pinching the bridge of his nose,  Hammond sighed. "Colonel..." He started again. "I'm worried, Jack. About you. About..." Hammond  
paused. "... your team."

The spoon was now sketching stick figures in the spots of milk Jack had spilled on the table. "We're okay, sir. It's not like we haven't had close ones before." Too damn many, frankly. Jack sometimes worried he'd get used to it. Get used to the inevitability of losing them. Losing-

"I understand that." Hammond continued, mercifully dragging Jack away from his train of thought. "But there's a point where it starts to affect you, even if you don't realize it. I worry about how this might affect your... team dynamic."

Team dynamic? "Sir, are you worried that there's a problem with SG-1? With how we're handling the stress? Because I really don't think we're in that bad of shape, the present situation notwithstanding." Jack gestured with the spoon for emphasis.

Hammond frowned. "No. Not as such. SG-1's performance has been fine. I really don't know how you all do it, to be perfectly honest. But I do wonder if this is affecting you and... your team more than is obvious."

Huh? Where the hell was this  going?

Hammond watched his coffee intently for a moment before looking up at Jack. "You personally have been though a lot lately, Jack. It's been hard on... your team."

There was that little pause again. That slight emphasis. What the hell was Hammond trying-

Oh.

_Oh_.

Crap.

Jack very carefully laid the spoon down. "Uh... yeah, right, my... team." Glancing around the mess hall, which wasn't exactly deserted, he asked softly, "Have I or my, ah, _team_ done something to cause you concern?"

Looking relieved, Hammond shook his head. "No, no. I have the greatest confidence in you and your team's professionalism and sense of duty. It's just..." Hammond sighed. "I'm aware of the bond between you and your... team, Jack. And given all that's happened in the last months, I can imagine someone might start reassessing priorities."

Okay, this was so not a conversation Jack wanted to be having. And _so_ not the person he wanted to be having it with.

Wait. Why _was_ he having this conversation with Hammond? Or really, why was Hammond having it with him? Did he think-

"Sir, Ca... my team and I..."

Hammond waved off any further protest. "I'm not implying anything, Jack. I know that you and your team take what we do here very seriously. I would have stepped in a long time ago if I'd had suspicions otherwise."

Jack felt an unexpected sense of relief. Everyone else seemed to assume, so he'd always worried what Hammond thought. "Thank you, sir. But with all due respect, and I really mean that, uh, why are we having this conversation? About... my team."

Taking a deep breath, Hammond said, "When I was forced to retire two years, I wasn't lying when I told you I was tired of seeing good people die. I am tired of it, tired of watching good people sacrifice so much of themselves with no end in sight.  You deserve better, Jack, you and your team. But with everything that's happening..."

Comprehension dawned. "You think I'm thinking about retiring," Jack interrupted. "Because of what happened to... my team."

"Not just because of that.  After what you've been through this year, half the people on the base are surprised you haven't."

To be honest, sometimes Jack was surprised too. He'd certainly thought about it, after Kanan and Ba'al.  He'd spent hours weighing pros and cons while on a Fraiser-enforced vacation. He'd even written them down once, making a neat little table of positives and negatives (just like she would have). Things like, "No one would be shooting at me" versus "Not being around to save the world."  Or, "Asking Carter out on a date" versus "Not being there if something happened to Carter."

He'd torn up the list and gone back to Colorado the next morning.

"I wondered if this most recent incident might be that last straw. I know it would be for me," Hammond admitted quietly. "No one would blame you if you did retire, Jack. No one would try to stop you."

Well. Jack sat back in his chair. Hammond was holding the door of opportunity open for him. All he had to do was step through.

It would be easy. So easy. No Goa'uld trying to kill him, dinner at that sweet little Italian place...

Jack sighed. Too bad he never  did anything the easy way.

"General, my, ah, team is very important to me, and while I'd be..." Devastated? "... distressed if anything happened, we both, my team and I, feel that our duty to the SGC and Earth is more important than any sort of direct resolution to that specific issue of the... team dynamic. I think I can speak for both myself and my team when I say we're in this for the long haul."

Hammond let out a long sigh, and Jack realized the older man had been holding his breath. "Thank you, Jack."

Huh. He really _had_ been worried. "No need to thank me sir. We're all here to do a job, and we've all given up a lot."

Hammond pushed his chair back and stood. "It's never been that simple, Jack. I just want you know that I appreciate your sacrifices. I'm proud of you, Jack, and I'm proud of... your team."

"That means a lot, sir."

Hammond nodded. "Why don't you go see how Major Carter is doing? See if Doctor Fraiser can give us a better estimate of how long she'll be off duty."

"I will, sir." Jack watched Hammond walk away. He wondered, just for a second, if he'd done the right thing. 'Course, if he had taken Hammond's out, he'd still be wondering the same thing.

You're damned either way, he told himself, piling the remains of his breakfast onto a tray and disposing of it. Just like Hammond. He wanted to, _had_ to give you the chance, and there was really no way he could come out and tell you he didn't want you to take it. It was the nature of what they did. Sometimes you had to find a way to say the things you couldn't.

On his way out Jack snagged a clean spoon and a cup of blue Jello from the counter.

For his... team.

 

  
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End file.
